


Plotpoint

by GhostHost



Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon - All Media Types, Pocket Monsters: Sun & Moon | Pokemon Sun & Moon Versions
Genre: AU, Alcohol, Comfort, Drinking, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Fluff, Past Abuse, Praise Kink, Reader-Insert, Romance, past abusive relationships
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-11
Updated: 2018-04-25
Packaged: 2019-02-13 11:40:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,411
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12983301
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GhostHost/pseuds/GhostHost
Summary: You've read fanfiction like this.There’s a storm. A big flash and a bang. Then the self-insert, or Mary Sue, or characters from an entirely different series go falling into a universe that isn’t their own, just to run about having a very self-indulgent time for an unforeseen author.  Problem is, you're not an author, pokemon are terrifying in person and Guzma...You like Guzma a lot more than you should.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Well this has been self indulgent. I gave the reader my Ult Sun team, nicknames. Mostly because I’m lazy, but also because they had a better reason to go with an alcohol theme for the names then I did. I do make a point to try and differentiate Pokemon (the game/etc) with pokemon the critters, by using capitol letters and italics but my computers a POS so I don't know how much that translated over. 
> 
> Warnings: I provide warnings per chapter for the chapter. This one's pretty tame, there's some drinking., including hinted at under-age drinking.

 

* * *

 

You've read fanfiction like this. 

There’s a storm. A big flash and a bang. Then the self-insert, or Mary Sue, or characters from an entirely different series go falling into a universe that isn’t their own, just to run about having a very self-indulgent time for an unforeseen author. 

The problem here is, you’re not the author. 

This isn’t a story, there wasn’t a storm--not even some nice, swirly lights!-and frankly, if you were choosing a universe to get unexpectedly dumped into  _ Pokemon _ wouldn’t have been it.

Not that you don’t love  _ Pokemon _ because you do! You totally, seriously, absolutely do! You just, you know, would’ve picked somewhere with a few more romantic options. 

Especially considering the current state of your love life is--ah, well. Disappointing is a good word, isn’t it? Yes? Let’s go with that. 

Disappointing. 

You  _ can _ at least admit  _ Pokemon’s _ a decent place to end up. Trouncing kids with giant, murder-creatures that love you unconditionally seems like a good second place prize. Something you’ll think about a lot once you get through the panic stage.

You are currently not through the panic stage. 

“What. The.  _ Fuck.” _ You utter, horrified, looking into the eyes of monsters who look  _ absolutely nothing _ like their cute, fuzzy, animated counterparts. Your brain is scrambling to make sense of what it’s seeing while also balancing the spinning room, nausea and general discomfort getting yanked into a 3DS does to a person. 

The fanfictions never include that part, do they?

Your cry is repeated a few seconds later. Not by you, but by the person who got kicked out the wormhole behind you. There’s also a  _ “Yo,” _ in front of that “- _ what the fuck!” _ Which can only mean one thing and that is--

_ ‘Guzma,’ _ you think as you turn to face him, ‘ _ at least looks better in person.’ _

Unlike your poor pokemon. 

“Who the _ hell  _ are you!?” He snarls, surging to his feet, as people rush to you both. The giant fucking demon lion--er, Nebby, rises as he does, the monster hovering protectively over you and you have a moment to be very, very relieved it thinks you’re its trainer. (Because you are, but you're also  _ not.) _

Now people are calling your name--your real name, not the nickname you gave your character, and that’s super weird--and congratulating you. Hau, who is definitely still Hau,  is hugging you, and Guzma’s shouting get’s lost in it all. 

He get’s lost entirely in fact, as you get swept away by the crowd. 

There’s a lot of questions you can’t answer, a lot of things the kids can fill in for you, and you just let it happen.

What else can you do?

 

xXx

You’re the player character. 

You knew that, of course, because you _ played the damn character.  _ No one else seems to know. They all appear to believe you’ve been here the whole time, in place of the ten year old you painstakingly customized. 

There are a few changes. You don’t have a mom, for instance. Instead you’ve worked out everyone thinks you moved here for a few months to watch an Aunt’s house while she went out on a very long cruise. The Trial Captain’s are a bit older--you had the whole Trial thing pegged as something kids kinda did, but now it’s a bit more open-ended. Which is good, because you are  _ definitely _ not ten. Finally, Z moves look a bit less stupid in person now that you can physically feel the power radiating off Pokemon and Trainer. Less bad dancing, more awe-inspiring. 

Not that you’ve been battling. You haven’t even seen your whole team yet. You haven’t exactly worked up the courage to after your Golisopod scared the ever loving crap out of you.

You thought the damn thing was cute in pixel form but noooope. Not in person.

After a few drinks maybe, but--not yet. 

There was celebrations, and congratulations and you’ve been so busy trying to both figure out how to function that you don’t even think to talk to Gladion when he shoves a drink into one of your shaking hands.

“Here.” He mutters, eyes darting away when you look at him, “This helps.” He’s gone before you can question him (and the fact that he’s like, what. 14?)  so you just shrug and take a sip. 

You think you might need to hug the little bastard when you realize it’s alcoholic. 

 

xXx

 

This whole mess has you so screwed up you don’t even remember who's on your team. You’ve got Nebby of course, in the form of Solgaleo, and the Golispod who startled you before. You know you’ve got a Mudsdale, and were running an odd combination of purple pokemon--Arbok and Haunter for sure. You think the third might be a Litwick, but you’d been trading it off and on with your Starter so who knew which one you had on you? 

You kinda hoped it was the Litwick, honestly. Those at least, were supposed to be small. 

You hadn’t nicknamed them this round. Mostly because it wasn’t supposed to be a “serious” play-through. Just a fun one to remind you of the story before _ UltraSun  _ came out. You know, so you could tell the plot differences, besides the obvious Rainbow Rocket. Your “serious”  pokemon are all in the  _ Pokemon Bank _ , casually chillin’, and you wonder vaguely if you’re going to be able to reach them.

You like to think you could play competitively, even if you have only the vaguest idea of how an IV pokemon works. Which would probably help you out here, in the actual damn  _ Pokemon  _ world. 

So, that’s the first thing to remedy then. Nicknames. You like nicknames, you think the pokemon probably like Nicknames, all you have to do is open their pretty little poke’balls and give it to ‘em.

Easy as pie.

Except of course, the pokemon might realize you are not their real trainer. 

Just because two didn’t, doesn’t meant the rest don’t.

It takes you the better part of the night to find the courage to call ‘em out. With shaking fingers  you finally, thumb their balls.

It’s now or never. 

Red lights flicker and flash in each direction as you press the releases, forming in the space that you really hope remains your living room instead of a murder scene.  

  
  


xXx

Good news is that they love you!

Bad news is that they’re all horrifying as fuck! 

The most terrifying of them all isn’t even one of your pokemon, oh no. It’s your Rotom Dex, who happened to make a delightful appearance as you were sending everyone out. He’s buzzing and fluttering and talking and you’re resisting the urge to bat him out of the sky like he’s an oversized bug.

He is pretty nice, you think, once you figure out he obeys you mindlessly. Which is--freaky, to have that kind of power. Particularly over something that can talk. Can’t, technically, all pokemon though? Or at least some of them? 

You think of Team Rocket’s Meowth and then abruptly decide it’s better to just not think at all. Not about that, anyway. 

Just like how you’re not thinking about half the pokedex entries for the Pokemon you have. 

Soul stealers, killers, kidnappers--yup. Good time to promise yourself to never read the Pokedex again, thanks! 

At least your Haunter looks more interested in playing pranks than it does licking you to your death. 

You name it Absinthe. Not because the name’s cool, but because you’ve decided on a theme. An alcoholic beverage theme, that may or may not have come from the third drink you chugged once you finally made it back to your house. 

“Sake.” You declare, pointing to your Golisopod. Your finger bounces heads as you name the rest. “Whiskey, Kahlua, Vodka.” 

Arbok, Mudsdale, and Litwick nod, giving their version of smiles as each of their new names are given. 

Gin Rummy, you think at your Starter, and feel only slightly stupid for pretending it can hear you. 

You have a short while to get acquainted before a knock at your door interrupts you.

It’s Guzma.

Of course it’s Guzma. 

He barges in and you just sigh and close the door behind him. You kinda expected him to corner you, sooner or later. You were just banking on later, considering--all that’s happened.

“Vodka’s on the counter.” You tell him as he whirls on you, hands on his hips. Your Litwick chirps, and you lean around the Team Skull Leader to address it. 

“Sorry, not you, Vod. The actual vodka.” You turn back to eye Guzma critically, adding; “Though I think I also have whiskey if you’d rather have that.” Then-- “No,  _ real  _ whiskey, Whiskey, not--okay. Maybe this wasn’t the  _ best  _ idea--” 

“Where is she!?” Guzma demands, face tight. You’re not drunk, not really--but you  _ are _ tipsy and that slows down your processing power enough to make thinking kinda hard.

“What?” You ask, because yeah, you’ve got nothing but dial-up internet noises where coherent thoughts should be. 

“The kid!” Guzma is snarling now, advancing on you. Several of your pokemon make warning noises, yet he gives them only the barest of glances. 

“The kid...” You trail off, half wondering if you still have to battle in turns or if you can just order your monsters to dog pile onto someone to stop them. “I’m not following--”

Except the dial-up noises have stopped because you  _ are _ following.  You get it. 

_ ‘Ding! You are connected to AOL Online!’  _

He’s talking about the player character. 

Sun, or whatever. The 10 year old whose place you took.

“Holy shit I hope she’s not at my house.” You didn’t mean to say it aloud, but well. Too late. You’d think more about that but you're struck by another thought as you look into the storm cloud of emotions of Guzma’s face.

He cares. About the player--about the  _ kid.  _

“Oh wow, they really do want a redemption ark for you.” You tell him which you also did not mean to say aloud and hmmm, did you really only have three drinks? Or was it closer to five?

_ ‘Let’s file that under questions for later.’ _

“You better start explaining.” Guzma is taking another step closer and wow, he is much taller than you thought! Especially when he doesn’t slouch! “Now.”

You start. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> According to Google, there are now 802 Pokemon. Someone wanna come up a rap for that? 
> 
> Warnings: Guzma's a dick.

 

* * *

 

Guzma has an interrupting problem.

You feel like you shouldn’t be surprised about this but yet, here you are! Surprised!

“I don’t _know.”_ You groan, for what feels like the hundredth time. “I don’t know how I got here, I don’t know where the former Champion went, I don’t even know how to access the fucking _start menu._ ”  

Guzma, as he has been, ignores anything relating to your “relocation” problem and instead circles back to asking four million questions about the former Champion; their location, your location, the wormhole,  and a number of variations of “Who the hell do you think you are!”   

He’s taking the “got stuck in a video game” thing harder than you, really.

“No one holds out on Guzma!” He snarls and you might’ve been concerned if he hadn’t been bellowing and snarling and tugging on his own hair for the past twenty minutes (while also sitting rather nicely on your couch with your pokemon team glaring him down.) You’re tired, this weird one-sided screaming match hasn’t helped you at all, and you’re coming down from being not-drunk in the _worst_ way possible.

Nevermind coming down from being _sucked into a foreign universe._ Weren’t people supposed to like the poor idiot who does that? Everyone else here was perfectly happy with you, so why wasn’t Guzma? Why was he the sole exception?

You totally should have read more fanfiction.

“Okay.” You say finally, standing up when the conversation circles around again. “That’s it. I am done and _you_ are getting kicked out.”

“Yeah?” Guzma sneers, standing up as you do. “How you gonna do that?”

You had already reached into your pocket, grabbing your sixth Pokeball. The one whose occupant you hadn’t released because you were fairly certain Nebby wasn’t going to fit in your living room. (Your poor Mudsdale was squished as it was.) You raise it to eye level, and smirk when Guzma pales.

“Oh I’m not going to do anything.” You say sweetly as you expand the ball. “But Nebby will!”

It’s comical the way Guzma goes from trying to tower over you to taking two very obvious steps back but you don’t laugh. You just thrust the ball forward and keep it pointing towards Guzma as he huffs and puffs and very, very, carefully walks around you towards the door.

He stops right after he opens it, piercing you with a look. “Whatever this is, whatever you did, I’ll figure it out. _Bitch.”_

Which--really!? How are _you_ the one at fault here!?

“This is why you’re the villain!” You yell after him as he slams the door.

_‘What. An. Asshole.’_

You’ve got a pounding headache now that’s one part alcohol and nine parts Guzma, but at least having to repeat your story over and over again has dulled you to the horror a bit. All you really feel now is tired. It is _definitely_ time for bed.

“Okay guys.” You sigh, turning back to your pokemon. “Back in your balls.”

Your crew looks at you expectantly.

You stare back.

It takes you far too long to realize you don’t know which pokemon goes in what ball, and that they’re waiting for you to recall them.

“Uh, guys?” You ask, because how the fuck did people just magically know these things!? “Could you uh, put yourselves back?”

Thankfully, they do.

xXx

Two days go by. No ones really dropped by your house, though your Rotom Dex has told you a number of times that people have called or texted. Apparently he doubles as a phone, which--makes sense, considering past Pokemon games.

You just wish your personal cell phone/pokedex/camera/gps would stop _judging your life._

“We should go outside and catch some more pokemon, _zzt--zzt!”_

“You’ve been on this couch for a long time, _zzt-zzt!”_

“I think we’re running out of food? _Zzt-zzt_ maybe we should go shopping…”

You’re going to lose it if one more _zzt--zzt_  comes out of it , but it does make you confront the fact that you’re not going to awaken from what you’ve decided is a coma anytime soon. It’s stupidly cliche, but so far everything has been stupidly cliche so it fits right in.

(Except Guzma, but you’ve also decided not to think about him.)

Which makes you think that you  might have to finish the adventure or help somebody or some stupid bullshit to wake up. Isn’t that what most people have to do? Something important?

You suppose that depends on how shitty the writer of the fic was.

You’re not really planning on sleeping your way through the _Pokemon_ games though (something you admit you might have done, if you had been sucked into say, _Harry Potter,_ or the _Marvel Universe_ or anything that’s ever been on HBO.) so that at least narrows your options down.  You just really, really hope it’s not self discovery.

You don’t need to find yourself, thanks.

You think for a moment about what your challenge might be--complete the game, 100%? Which would entail--what? Getting the Ultra Beasts and completing the Pokedex? Would you just have to complete _Sun and Moon’s_ Pokedex or like, the national dex?

How many pokemon were there now? 700ish or so…?

_‘Oh my God I’m going to die here.’_ You think vaguely before shaking yourself. Wondertrade and GTS were a thing, if all else fails you can totally sit around doing that for a while, shouldn’t be too hard! Just...time consuming. Really time consuming. If trading even worked here like that.

Thinking on it, you feel like the concept of Wondertrading might be less amazing and more super illegal when it involved throwing actual creatures you were responsible for into the void. Nevermind the whole instant connection thing needed.

You really, really hope you just have to help people.

_‘Unless you aren’t supposed to do anything’_ That traitorous voice in your head whispers, which you ignore because so what if you _are_ in a coma and this is some fucked up coping method? It’s at least _fun._ Or could be fun, anyway! If you’re gonna die anyway you might enjoy life for a bit--even if that life is all in your head.

Determination renewed you grab your pokeballs; put on a hat, look in the mirror, take the hat back off, grumble about your general appearance for a minute and then, finally, head outside.

What was it the _Pokemon_ professors always said at the start of the games? The world of _Pokemon_ awaits you?

Yeah.

Something like that.

xXx

The world of _Pokemon_ fucking sucks.

“Do cars exist here?” You mutter to yourself as you wheeze against a wall. “Does public transportation in any form exist at all?!” Because so far all you’ve done is walk, and you don’t recall getting a bike in _Sun or Moon._

Not that you think you can still _ride_ a bike, but you know. It was better than the game that gave you rollerblades.

Your Rotom Dex makes some muffled noises from your bag that might have been  “Do you want to call a Charizard?” but you firmly ignore it. Your butt’s not getting on a Charizard. Your butt’s not getting on _any_ pokemon just yet. You took horseback riding lessons as a kid, you know what it's like to sit on an animal and have it decide you're too stupid to steer. And as evil as ponies are, they don’t breath fire.

So no. You’re gonna suck it up and walk.

You tell yourself this is just you fulfilling that New Years resolution you make every year and then promptly ignore until the next December. At least coma-you can get in shape!

Oh god _why_ are there so many hills!

You’ve been outside for about four hours and already encountered numerous problems. Your middle-school weeaboo phase that you pretend you grew out of gave you the knowledge  that 200 in yen was actually like, a buck fifty in the US, but when the game was imported it turned into 200 dollars and you’re not really sure which one it is. Are Pokeballs expensive? How much was rent? Are you even paying rent? You couldn’t exactly figure out where the hell your wallet was--did you transfer money electronically?

Did your Rotom Dex do that too?!

_‘Please say no.’_ You thought, crossing your fingers as you stumble into the next town on the island.

Theoretically, you should have a bunch of money because you are The Champion and you got bookoo bucks from defeating the Elite Four. Thing is, you _also_ spent a stupid amount of money on dumb things like clothes and evolution stones because you weren’t expecting to have to pay for groceries with it.

You know do you can get money from battling people, at least.

You just, don’t really want to do that. Not yet anyway.

Not until you have to.

You finally decide you’re done exploring Melemele and stagger inside the first Pokemon Center you see. There you can heal your pokemon (even if they don’t need it) and ask Nurse Joy and the PokeMart guys some carefully phrased questions that hopefully, won’t raise any concerns about you’ve suddenly forgot how life here works.

xXx

You kinda succeed.

Despite your best efforts you still got weird looks. You also got answers though, which you care a lot more about.

You have a decent amount of currency left. Your pokemon do need to eat (whoops) and you picked up some things for them in general, while also dodging every question you could about battling and your status as The Champion.

That is definitely gonna be a problem later. You knew you were The Champion, and what one generally did (kick people’s asses) but there’s that little problem of not knowing how battling works anymore. You know you can lose and thus pass on the title--hell, plenty of Champions from other games only held the title for like what, a minute? But it’s gonna be obvious that you no longer know what you are doing, and that could cause problems.

Those potential problems, combined with the super weird adoration (the one you were expecting people to have, but has turned out to be plain creepy now that it's in your face) has made you nervous about people finding out you aren’t who they think you are.

Would they get upset? Angry? Think you’re joking? Would they believe you, or make your life harder? Could they make your life harder? Do you even want anyone to know what truly happened? Can you work it through on your own, figure stuff out carefully without anyone?

It’s a lot of uncertainty. It boils down to two real questions;

If you don’t tell somebody, how are you going to explain your sudden lack of knowledge?

And;

If you do tell, will they even believe you?

You think you’re likely gonna have to tell somebody. Someone dependable. Nice enough to help you through any freakouts while explaining what you’ve been dumped into easily enough for you to fake it and “complete” your “quest.”

You take your time debating who that person could be while you walk home.

All you know is that your choice is important. This choice, is important. It could be the biggest thing that impacts your “life” here.

Ugh. Real life was hard enough, how come fake-life had to suck too!?  


xXx

You make it back to your house without incident, thankfully. Several people tried to battle you, but you got out of each attempt by using lamer and lamer excuses. You’re lost in thought, deep in your own head debating the choice between confiding in a child vs an adult and don’t bother to pay attention to your surroundings as you walk up to your door.

This proves to be your downfall.

“So I’m the villain.” Guzma spits and you nearly have a heart attack because he came out of _fucking nowhere._

“What?” You wheeze, whipping around to stare at him.

He’s leaning against the side of your house, a frown slashed across his face. “When I left last night. You said I was the villain.”

More staring. More wheezing. “Yeah. I thought you’d be happy about that actually.” You say when you can. Because really, he ran around calling himself “Big Bag Guzma.”  The guy knows he’s not the hero.

“Lusamine’s around, but _I’m_ the main villain.” He doesn’t say it like a question. More of an angry accusation and you frown at him trying to figure out his angle.

“No, she was definitely the actual villain,” Which makes him frown harder and oh my god _what does he want_ , “but you did work with her to open the wormhole.” Almost as an afterthought, you add  “Plus, you know. Team Skull.”

_‘With the whole taking over a town and stealing pokemon and robbery and all that.’_ You think it, but don’t bother bringing it up. Guzma knows. As far as you can tell he’s proud of most of it. Even if--

“I disbanded Team Skull.”

\--he disbands it later.

“You knew I disbanded Team Skull.” He says, immediately reading your lack of surprise.

You shrug. “Like I said yesterday, this isn’t my first play through.” Not that he’d been listening because he’d been too busy trying to talk over you.

_Asshole._

“Yeah? You think you know everything?” He pushes off against the wall, steps up next to you. You know he’s trying to be intimidating again but some part of this just--falls flat. Maybe it’s because you have Nebby and the rest of your team if things go poorly. Mostly it’s the fact that, for as mad as he got last night, he never actually pulled anything with you. Went through a lot of dramatics, certainly, and the yelling was annoying, but it wasn’t frightening. Frustrating,  not alarming or dangerous.

“I know everything that was revealed in the game.” You say, only to regret it immediately.

_‘Dumb protagonist! Don’t say shit like that!’_ You think at yourself. It’s too late though--your opponent has risen to the challenge.

“Oh yeah?” Guzma has his arms crossed, fingers clenched on baggy sleeves.“Then let’s hear some shit about Guzma then!”

He has _got_ to stop talking about himself in third person.You don’t back down though. Just stare up at him and rattle off what you know.

“You used to be best friends with Kukei. You got possessed by a Nihilego.  Your lucky stone is the Dawn stone. Your dad--” You stop because nope!  Wrong turn, do not pass go, do not collect 200 pokedollars!

Too late once again. Guzma bends down over you,  a dark look descending down his features. “My dad _what_.” He snarls.

Yup, there’s the regret again. There’s a big ol’ boatload of regret.

“Nevermind.” You say, inching just enough to get you closer to your door. “I’ve had a long day.” You swing it open and dart in, thankful your stupid ass forgot to lock the door. “Goodbye!”

You close it in Guzma’s face and try not to feel bad about it.

“Get back out here!” He bellows, pounding hard enough on the wood to shake the whole thing in it’s frame.

You don’t answer. Just stare at the door, hand on Nebby’s ball, waiting it out. Finally--finally! He goes away. You peer out your window just in time to see him turn around at the end of your walkway, one hand fisted hard in his hair. He gives it a few tugs while snarling something you can’t hear, before storming away.

A horrible, terrible thought comes over you.

What if _Guzma_ is the person you’re supposed to help?

_‘Collecting the 800 pokemon would you be easier.’_ You think in horror, before deciding to stop thinking about it at all.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Totally didn’t mean to wait this long to update my baaaad. 
> 
> Warnings: None, really! Shoot me a message if you’d like something up here!

There are two ways to make a decision.

The first is to think it to death, and the other is to pick an option and just go for it before anxiety can catch on to what you’re doing.

(There actually might be other, saner ways to make a decision, but these two seemed to have suited you for this long, so there’s no point in changing now, thanks!) 

In today’s case, you’ve decided for the latter. 

Professor Burnet’s research specialized in wormholes and other dimensions. She clearly  _ believes _ in other dimensions--and thus, she’s the most likely person in the game to believe you. Heck you might even be able to prove it to her somehow! 

If she believes it, then there’s a good chance Professor Kukui will too. Once you have his approval you think you can either get everyone on board, or at least have enough support to successfully hide this shit from anyone who doesn’t need to know your situation.

This is the kind of revelation you awaken at two in the morning to have, so you’re a little peeved that you think of it over breakfast but it at least, gives you a goal for the day. A rather large goal, one that could potentially help fix your problem and that alone is enough to raise your spirits.

Plus, as mentioned above, it happened fast enough for you not have to have an entire crisis over deciding whether or not it was a good idea. 

Your Rotom’s a little surprised about how fast you’re out the door and you can’t help but teasing it that “adventure awaits!” when it asks why the sudden change. It answers with some cutesy seemingly generated response and but you don’t care. 

Things are  _ finally  _ about to be fixed!

xXx

Things are not going to be fixed. 

“I’m sorry, you’re what?” You say politely. You’ve been here fifteen minutes, and already your excitement has crashed down. Amazing how fast a simple sentence can do that to a person.   

“Renewing our wedding vows! ” Professor Burnet  repeats cheerily, and wow okay, you _ did _ hear her correctly. You just assumed you hadn’t because you know, who the fuck actually renews wedding vows these days!?

The answer was apparently, Professors Burnet and Kukui.

“You’re invited of course!” She says as she bounces about, directing a number of people who are doing God knows what in her house/lab. “We decided to do this kinda last minute but your invitation is in the mail.” 

She trots off to sign a package from a delivery man whose charizard just landed and you obediently follow after her, as you have been doing since you got here.  

“I’m afraid because of that though we’re a little distracted though.” She laughs. “What was it you wanted to ask?”

“The wormhole--” You start, only to be interrupted by another delivery man, this one appearing by way of lapras.

“Oh perfect! I wondered where you were!” She says to the deliveryman who makes some apologies about waves and time and the sea generally being an uncooperative bitch. She signs, directs and then turns back to you. “ As you can see it is just chaos here--I’m sorry though, say your question one more time.” 

Which is amazing she even got that out, because she’s not remotely paying attention to you. 

You try again anyway. 

“I said when I was in the wormhole, there was--” and of course you don’t finish, because a delivery woman and a group of tauros are rounding the bend, dragging what  appears to be a small trailer full of tables and chairs. 

“Oh no, they’re a day early!” Professor Burnet frowns, hands on her hips. “Where are we going to put them now?!” She turns to you, once again somewhat surprised by your presence. “Oh I am so sorry, I interrupted you again. One last time, your question?”

You stare at the tauros. Then back to the skies, were three more charizards appear to be headed this way. 

You pause. Calculate. Think about the time your cousin got married and all those stupid bridal shows your mom likes. 

You make a decision.

“I asked if you wanted some help.” You say, utterly defeated.

“Oh would you!? That would be great!” Burnet claps, smiling brightly. “Our wonder Champion, coming through again!” 

You smile too, even if you’re slowly dying on the inside.

At least if you hang around, you’ll be near enough to gauge when the best time is to spring all this on her. 

Preferably before the renewal honeymoon.   
  


xXx

You were close.

So, _ so _ close.

You think you’d have another breakdown if you weren’t so tired. 

Turns out, doing inventory for what is looking to be a massive not-wedding is really exhausting. Or at least, it is when you’re tasked with counting tables and chairs--by moving them all over creation.

You didn’t mind the work though. Sure you’re tired, but it was at least enough of a distraction to get your mind off things for a while. Not think about how your hopes and dreams were utterly dashed. How you’re stuck here without anyone but Guzma knowing and nope! You are avoiding this line of thought! That’s why you’re at the beach, watching the sun bask the earth (Poke-Earth?) with a golden glow while your pokemon play lazily in the water. Because you’re supposed to be relaxing. Having one day where you aren’t filled with a mix of dread and vague annoyance.

The beach was supposed to be the perfect place at meditating, but you find out pretty fast you are bad at that, so you stop and just sit there for a while. Try not to think about your life. Be content for once! 

This is a lot harder than it sounds, and by its very nature makes it nearly impossible. By the end of it you’re mad at yourself because come on, avoidance is the _ one thing _ you’re good at!

Well, avoidance and procrastination but they’re basically the same thing. 

In the end you decide getting mad at yourself for thinking about all the stuff you’re not supposed to be thinking about is stupid. It’s time to make a true and proper battle plan--or more specifically, a battle list.

See, lists, you could do. A list made everything easier. Even if you never accomplished anything on said list, at least the process of breaking it all down into small stupid chunks would make it look slightly less horrifying. A goal you’d  _ totally _ settle for right now.

Which is exactly what you do. 

Step 1: Help With Wedding because fuck it, you promised.

Step 2: Discuss all wormhole different realm/planet/universe issues with Dr Burnet once the Not Wedding is complete. Do NOT let her get away before you do! 

Step 3: Pick someone to teach you how to battle pokemon in the meantime, because yours are looking antsy and you’re completely out of excuses to use on challengers. 

Annnd done! 

See?

Easy.

You could break it all down farther. You’re tempted to do so, just to give you something to focus on for five minutes.

Instead, you hear Gladion. 

It’s a little hard not to, seeing as he’s yelling.

The yellings growing closer and judging by rasp of it, it appears he’s been doing this for a while. You’re not able to make out what he’s saying, but he’s definitely chewing someone out. That is not happy yelling you’re hearing. 

You doubt you can do anything to help if there’s real trouble--but then again his own Pokemon team is near godly by this point so you don’t really think your interference is really needed. At least not battle wise.

You  _ can _ totally offer back up emotional support though and so you stand up to do just that. Heck if it’s one of the last stubborn, straggling members of Team Skull, you might even get to yell some cool insults! 

Okay. Maybe not cool. But you’ll get to try out some insults to see which one actually lands and doesn’t make everyone around you laugh and cringe, so that’s kinda a win in it’s own right!

Right?

Sure.

The yellings died down now, but Gladion’s still talking. You’re confident your pokemon will follow you, and so you turn in the direction you think the kid’s at and wander on over. You’re not in a rush--no one’s in a rush around these parts and thus neither are you. Plus if there IS a Pokemon battle you can hopefully arrive by the time Gladion’s Silvally has bashed it’s opponents into the ground. 

You try to think up a cool intro insult while you do.

Most of the beaches around here are duneless. Open with an endless expansion of flat beach. Some parts aren’t though, so you end up climbing up a small hill before being able to see Gladion and his opponent. 

This puts the sun behind you and forces anyone below to look up, which you think, makes a properly dramatic entrance. Nebby happily climbs behind you while the rest of your Pokemon trail along your sides and for once you’re kinda pumped because damn, you are such a badass!

Or well, you’ll look like one anyway. For a hot minute.

Which means when you finally spot Gladion and his opponent, the instant, immediate regret nearly knocks you down the otherside of the hill.

Gladion looks your way instantly as does  _ fucking Guzma, _ and both of them look like they expected you.

The younger, former member of Team Skull points a very obvious finger in your direction, and hisses an equally obvious “Just _ talk _ to her!” 

Guzma fists in hand in his hair, giving it a harsh tug. “Bug off!” He snaps.

_ ‘Cute.’  _ You think, your brain allowing you a flicker of amusement about the fact that Guzma both apparently refuses to swear around kids and the fact he replaced one with something bug related before the the situation hits you and your entire body freezes.

_ ‘Fight or Flight mode: Activate!’ _

The panic must be showing on your face because Gladion heaves a Dramatic Emo Sigh before calling your name.

You pretend not to hear him. 

Nope, you are backing down the hill the way you came thanks! Nice and slow and not at all awkwardly, nope! You’re not gonna run the second you can’t see Guzma either. 

“Everyone get back in your balls.” You say under your breath. 

You’re met with a bunch of confused looks because everything in life hates you.

Including Nebby, apparently! Your demon lion makes a noise that could’ve been a confused purr, but could also have been a playful growl (or just a plain constipation induced grunt, you wouldn’t know) before using his massive freaking head to shove you down the hill. 

_ Towards  _ Guzma and Gladion. 

You weren’t expecting a betrayal fit for a Top Ten list and so you’re entirely unprepared for a push that hard. No resistance plus poor footing equals you landing on your ass-- directly in front of Guzma.

_ ‘Why me.’  _  You think plaintively.  _ ‘What did I do to deserve this?’ _

Your brain helpfully gives you a few reasons and you ignore it because that was a  _ rhetorical question dammit! _

“Hey, Champion.” Gladion greets you, the same way a lot of people do. You’ve figured out the title is a lot like “doctor” or chef.” Something people will use casually no matter how many times you tell them to knock it off. 

Gladion, at this point, had been told twice to knock it off, and thus was doing it because he was a teenager rebelling against The Man. 

“Hey.” You greet back, making a point not to look up, where Guzma’s face is. “Is there a return policy on legendaries? I’m not happy with mine.” 

Gladion snickers, but the sound fades from your mind the second a hand is thrust in your face. 

Now you do look up at Guzma.

Who is looking down at you. 

The two of you keep looking for what turns out to be a very long, tense moment. 

“Just take it, I won’t bite.” He grunts out, shaking his hand. He’s trying for a tone that might’ve been “smooth, playful badass” but fell flat enough to just be awkward.    
Very hesitantly, you do. 

He’s at least careful about pulling you up--you half expected him to yank your ass up like he’s starting a lawn mower. 

He gets you to your feet, amazingly gentle for all that bluff, and the two of you resume your staring for another painfully long minute. 

“Guzma is going to help you with your problem.” Gladion says helpfully into the silence.

“Which one?” You ask, because fuck it, you’re not in the mood to play stupid. You knew the kid overheard something. He was at Burnet’s house earlier. He’d walked up on you twice muttering to yourself about bad luck and bullshit wormhole antics.  You honestly don’t care what all he knows. In this exact instance, you don’t care if everyone knows. You can do that later, after you figure out where you stand with his Royal Jackassness. 

“Battling.” 

You make a face. “You can’t help with that?” You ask because now that you’re thinking about it, that at least sounds like a solution. Gladion’s been helpful thus far, why bother asking Guzma to do it?!

“Because Guzma is experienced with teaching new trainers.” Was the immediate explanation. “He personally taught the majority of Team Skull.” 

Which--okay. Point taken.

But that doesn’t mean Guzma’s going to want to. Or would do so, respectfully. Especially with not how he’s been treating you thus far. 

“Did Guzma agree to this?” You ask. You’re facing the lug, and thus, clearly asking him the question instead of Gladion, but the kid answers anyway.

“Pretty much.” 

One of your eyebrows raises. “And you think this is a good idea.” 

That is definitely not a question, and also not aimed at Gladion, but the kid treats it like it was all the same. 

“He’s best suited to helping you, and he’s one of the few people whose Pokemon are nearly equal in strength to yours.” He flicks his hair out of his eyes, then pins you with them. “I’d take him up on it.” 

Then he dramatically walks away into the sunset, because that’s the kind of world you’re stuck in. 

You want to shout after him. Point out that so are his pokemon, thanks!--but thinking on it, you’re not sure that’s true. In the _ Sun and Moon _ games, you fight Guzma more often than Gladion--at least, you think you do. He does have more pokemon in general, and his are closer to yours level wise. There’s also the fact that he’s around your age, which you think isn’t really a factor but might be. You haven’t even fought one battle--you don’t know if strategies are a thing in the actual pokemon world. You know they are in the anime, and if that holds true, then facing someone who at least can think ahead a few steps might be better to take on than a sassy fourteen year old.

It’s just--you know.

It’s Guzma.

“Why,” You ask him, blatantly suspicious. “-would you want to help me?” 

_ ‘Why the change of heart? Why do this for me now?’ _

Guzma looks down. Shrugs. 

“That’s not an answer.” You deadpan. 

“Fu--” He stops, picks his head up and checks to see how far away Gladion is. “--ck, you.” He finishes, apparently satisfied that precious teenage ears are gone. Not behavior you think Gladion-I’m-An-Adult-And-I-Like-To-Meddle appreciates, and you make a note to say something uncouth around the kid later just to gauge Guzma’s reaction. In the meantime, Guzma’s still talking.

“I don’t need to give you an answer. Just be here tomorrow at 10.” He says, voice unhappy. His whole body’s tense, half of it caving in on itself, but not in the way it usually does. This seems more self conscious, his hands shoved so deep into his pockets they’re practically touching his knees. 

He looks like someone whose been recently chatisized, which is amazing in and of itself because that meant Gladion did the chatisizing, and it was _ effective.  _

“You think after you’ve been chasing after and screaming at me for two days, I’m just going to up and trust you to teach me how to battle?” You ask, hands defensively crossing over your chest. Chatisized or not, he’s still been an ass. You’re not sure you’re ready to trust someone who spent several hours yelling at you instead of listening.    


“Look,” Guzma spits out, frustrated. “The kid’s right, okay? So just meet me here tomorrow and don’t make this _ difficult. _ ” He kicks a rock, hanging his head and stomping off. “Guzma out!” He shouts over his shoulder. 

Which hey--no, that is _ not  _ an answer! 

“That’s not remotely convincing!” You yell. Gladion was right?! About what!? Lord, would it kill that asshole to be straightforward!? 

Too late. He’s off and vanished, leaving you to wonder if this sudden decision to help you is something you is some kind of twisted ploy or sincere. It clearly can’t be _ too _ sincere since Gladion twisted his arm into doing it, but that line of thought brings about a whole series of questions as to why  _ Gladion _ went to  _ Guzma  _ on  _ your _ behalf. 

Let alone what the hell he said to convince the bastard to help you!

“Can we go home now  _ zzzt-zzt _ ?” Says your Rotom and whoops, you forgot it existed again!

You stare off into the sunset for a moment, at the place were both boys disappeared. Part of you wants to give chase, to demand answers. 

The other part of you, the tired, I exercised too much today part, wants pizza and in the end it’s that part that wins out. “I guess.” You say, accepting that you’re just going to have to grill Guzma tomorrow--if the guy even shows up. “Let’s go, guys.” 

Happily, your pokemon do, leaving you to be the only one to wonder if you’re going to be murdered tomorrow. 

At least Gladion might be in line to avenge you. 

Maybe.  


End file.
